


Withering Spring

by Gozzer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Murder, Awesome Galadriel, BAMF Thranduil, Battle, Blind Thranduil, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Chains, Elemental Magic, Elves, F/M, Fae Magic, Fíli Feels, Gen, Healing, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Thranduil (Tolkien), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss of Faith, Loss of Identity, M/M, Magic, Magic Thranduil, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Mirkwood, Multi, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Other, Permanent Injury, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Protection Magic, Protective Elrond, Protective Fíli, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Protective Thranduil, Rape, Sacred Trees, Soul Binding, Soul Bond, Soul-Crushing, Thranduil angst, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Violence, Whipping, hair cutting, magic trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28951266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gozzer/pseuds/Gozzer
Summary: When Thranduil goes missing during the Battle of the Five Armies after saving Fili's life Mirkwood falls into ruin.Fili feels a deep life debt is in place and does whatever he can to find the ElvenKing.While deep in Mount Gundabad King Thranduil is fighting for his freedom, honor, and life.
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien), Fíli & Legolas Greenleaf, Fíli & Thranduil (Tolkien), Fíli (Tolkien) & Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Fíli/Thranduil (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Legolas Greenleaf & Tauriel, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Thranduil (Tolkien)/Fili, Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

When Thranduil first arrived in Dale after Smaug’s defeat he expected resistance from the dwarves in the mountain. It was expected for them to send word for the Iron Hills and the elven king had planned for that. He didn’t want the day to end in bloodshed but he wasn’t leaving without those gems; they had been missing from the Woodland Realm for far too long. For the most part the elven army had been for intimidation of those in the mountain but when Dain crested the hill he knew a fight was going to be had. The first blood to be spilled was of his own kin and he knew to take that as the bad omen it was. 

The trembling of the ground and the arrival of the orc armies had him surprisingly anxious. He believed in the might of his people but orcs of that number hadn’t been seen in these lands for several thousand years. Not since the reign of Sauron. It only spelled ill news.

Being pushed back to Dale was a low blow. It left the dwarves to fend off the main onslaught and as mighty as they may be some things just weren’t to be. Thranduil did his best to defend the Men of Dale but the sight of his own kin lying lifeless on the stone had him reconsidering. The fight for Erebor wasn’t his problem. It never had been. Those dwarves could defend their homeland, he wasn’t going to risk more elven blood to be spilled for this cursed land. His call for them to head away from the battle was stopped before it could even leave his lips. Legolas and Tauriel burst through a force of orcs. The sight of his son brought a certain fear to him that only a parent could have. His son had never seen an actual battle and despite knowing Legolas was well trained, Thranduil wanted nothing more than to keep him out of harm’s way. Even seeing Tauriel had about the same response. He had taken her in after her parents fell and finished raising her like his own. He didn’t want either of them in this cursed place.

Word of another army coming from the North had him biting back a sigh. Despite his wish to avoid more blood being spilled he knew he couldn’t leave. Another army spelt bad news for everyone. Then the little hobbit had to go and say that Oakenshield and his kin were up on Ravenhill. Walking right into a trap. 

“Someone has to warn them,” Tauriel said. Fear for the dwarves bright in her eyes. Thranduil knew of her affections towards one of Oakenshield’s heirs and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew she would fall for him. A mortal bound to die long before her. 

“I’ll go.” The courage of the hobbit swayed no one. Mithrandir turned to tell the small man off but Thranduil stepped in.

“Legolas, Tauriel, stay with our people. Help defend Dale. I’ll warn Oakenshield.” He would make it there faster than the others no doubt. Scaling a small hill side was nothing compared to the ravines digging deep in Mirkwood. 

“No, you’re not going up there on your own.” Legolas shook his head with the stubbornness Thranduil had. It used to get him into trouble when he was younger.

“He won’t be,” the hobbit said. “I’m going to help.” 

“If you make it.” Thranduil brushed his cloak out of his way and turned towards Ravenhill. It would’ve been easier with a mount but there was nothing to be done about that. Without a sparing a glance for those gathered around him he took off. Best to get there before those dwarves walked right into a trap.

Cutting down the orcs in his path was child’s play compared to most fights he had been in. He kept an ear out for the hobbit that he knew was following him but couldn’t stop to check on him. It was going to be hard to keep track of him when they started climbing. Swift and sure steps took Thranduil up the rocks, the mist hanging over the area did little to hinder him. He scaled Ravenhill with ease and popped up in the ruins no worse for wear. The mist was heavier up there but he moved through it while listening for movement nearby. It was almost too quiet. But then the heavy breathing of dwarves reached his ears. Far too loud when he got closer. When he broke through the mist he found Oakenshield and his guard standing before the bodies of goblins. Thranduil’s appearance had the dwarves turning their weapons on him.

“Best to point those away from your allies.” The cool tone he always used did little to deter the dwarves. Oakenshield glared at him and went to say something when the hobbit popped up next to Thranduil. 

“He’s your ally, Thorin.” The hobbit took a wheezing breath that had Thranduil glancing down at him. He certainly wasn’t meant for scaling rock walls. “Another army is coming. This is a trap.” It took but a moment for the dwarves to realize the truth in the words. Then fear sparked in their eyes as they turned to the towers across the frozen river.

“And we sent Fili and Kili right into it,” Oakenshield said. Thranduil could curse for years about the stupidity of dwarves. They knew Azog and his ilk were up there and still sent in the young heirs. It was to be their death if they did nothing.

As a group they moved for the edge of the ice where movement on one of the towers brought them to a stop. Azog stepped through the mist with the blonde dwarf prince held out. This wasn’t going to end with less than death. Thranduil barely chanced a glance at the dwarves to see them frozen in their places and knew they would offer no help. It had a silent fury burning through his veins. That was one of their own and they refused to break of their stupor. Their heir was going to die because they could not see beyond their fear. Which left him nothing else to do but do it for them.

Silent and unseen as a shadow Thranduil slipped around the broken stone. He slipped through the mist across the ice to get to the ruined towers beyond. Azog still carried on in his black speech that no one could understand but they still knew what was being conveyed. When Thranduil reached the bottom of the tower he took a second to scope out the best way up before climbing up the broken stones. In the shadow of the tower no one could see him. Not until he leaped over the edge of the platform. Sword already in hand he swung out at the orcs blocking his path to Azog. They fell with terrible screeches. He reached the pale orc just as a blade was being positioned at the dwarf’s back. While he couldn’t avoid injuring the dwarf he could at least make the blow a glancing one. With a swipe of his sword Azog’s bladed arm was being shoved up and away from the vital space where it was once pointed. It didn’t stop the blade from dragging along the dwarf’s skin but it saved him from a premature death.

A cry of rage left the pale orc as he shoved the dwarf away from him. Who teetered on the edge of the platform before slipping to the side and sitting just beyond Azog’s feet. Thranduil didn’t spare him a glance; he would be fine. His attention was on the threat before him. Black speech was leaving the orc in furious waves that Thranduil cared nothing for. He slashed out his sword to silence the orc only to get parried. The flurry of swipes and slashes worked to push the pale orc back into the tower. Where Azog gave the elven king a vicious grin. It was realized too late that more orcs were still within the tower’s halls. Thranduil struck out at Azog one last time before the orc disappeared into the darkness around them, catching the ugly creature's face. But he didn’t have the chance to follow up as he was swarmed with orcs.

While normally fighting such numbers would be easy, fighting in just close quarters had never been Thranduil’s forte. His sword was much too long and the knives he had on his person couldn’t be easily reached while he blocked the attacks. He flicked his wrist and brought forth one of the blades lining his forearm. It fell into his palm and while blocking with his sword he struck out with the smaller weapon. Orcs fell around him but more seemed to pour in. There was a shout from one of the foul creatures that he paid no mind. Words of rough black speech were echoed through the halls. Thranduil struck down another orc and blocked an attack coming from his left. Then another came from his back that he couldn’t get to. A loud ting of metal on metal sounded as a sword hit his armor. It had him turning to cut down the orc only to get something heavy slamming into his shoulders. Another turn ended in the flat side of a sword being brought across his face. The sting of the cut across his nose did little to stop him from thrusting his knife through the orc’s face. For a moment the orcs stopped their attacks and laughed. It startled the elven king enough to leave an open space in his defense.

Something heavy was swung at the back of his head. It struck Thranduil hard enough to send him stumbling a step forward and his vision darkening. The silver circlet on his head went skittering across the stone as another hit came down on him that he couldn’t block in his daze. He never let his guard fall so easily and lashed out at the disgusting creatures around him. But all they did was laugh and laugh before converging on him all at once. There was very little he could do against the onslaught. Thranduil bit down a noise of pain as a blade was driven between the plating of his armor on his shoulders. It was plunged deeper into his shoulder until he could feel the grind of it hitting bone. He clenched his teeth and ripped away from the blade wielder. Blood bubbled around the metal and slipped down his skin as he twisted to kill the one who harmed him. The grinding of the blade on bone only made him fight against the orcs more viciously. But it wasn’t meant to be. He was down an arm and slowing with the pain. Another swing came to his face and knocked him back. Feet slipped out from under him, sending him crashing against the stone floor and driving the blade deeper into his shoulder. A metal boot came down on his face and the last Thranduil heard was the sound of someone shouting his name.

Fili had picked himself up from the ledge with some difficulty. Azog’s blade had ripped along his spine and shoulders to limit his movement. But he pushed through the pain. He could hear the sounds of a fight echoing from the hall behind him that had worry curling in his chest. Those walls were far too close together to fight in properly. Metal clanged and bodies fell. It swam in his ears as he pulled out his dual swords and stepped into the darkness. The orcs within the halls were too busy focusing on someone deeper within to notice him coming up behind. He cut down those in his way. Laughing made him pause and peer around the corner. A tall white blond figure stood in the center of a small horde of orcs with red blood dripping down his face to mix in with the splatters of black. King Thranduil wasn’t a hard person to distinguish. The dark and feral look on his face struck Fili as one that a cornered animal would wear. In a quick moment the orcs surged forward to attack the king. Fili stepped out around the corner to strike down as many of the orcs as he could before something seriously dangerous occurred.

The second Fili caught sight of a dagger being thrust into the elven king’s shoulder; he knew this fight was falling from their favor. Even with his help King Thranduil wouldn’t be able to escape. That didn’t stop him from slashing and killing the orcs around him to get to the elf and offer his aid. Horror washed over his as he watched a large orc slam a thick club into the king’s face. It sent the tall elf stumbling and one of the other orcs stuck out a leg to trip him. Down the mighty elven king fell.

“King Thranduil!” Fili’s shout escaped before he could stop it. The orcs turned away from the king to face him head on. The one that struck down the king stepped forward and Fili had to force down the bile in his throat at the sight of the vibrant red blood on the metal boots. Something was said in black speech then half the orcs rushed at him. Fili fought against the attacks and watched as the other half pulled the unconscious and bloody form of the elven king into the darkness of the halls.

In the time it took him to bring down the orcs he knew King Thranduil was long gone. It was completely silent in the empty halls. Fili stooped low to pick up the fallen blades of the king and spied a silver circlet hidden in the shadows. The fine metal was crushed from the multiple feet running over it and white blond strands of hair stained with blood clung to it. He was almost sick at the sight; along with the shimmering red of elf blood puddled in the center of the floor. It was a somber climb back down from the tower. The long sword was still dripping black blood along with the knife when Fili exited the broken stone walls. He reached the edge of the frozen river and found Thorin sitting on the other side with Bilbo. Something moved from behind him and he turned to see Tauriel helping Kili down a set of stairs towards him. Legolas wasn’t far behind. When both elves caught sight of him they gave similar nods. But then Legolas caught sight of the items he carried and rushed forward.

“Where is King Thranduil?” The suspicion in the elf’s voice did little to Fili. He held out the weapons first for the blond elf and only once they had been taken did he reach into his coat to pull out the trampled circlet. Fear burned in bright blue eyes and a trembling hand reached out for the silver. “Where is his body?” 

“He’s not dead,” Fili started. He refused to believe that the king would fall so easily. Legolas looked away from the circlet with a sorrow unlike any Fili had ever seen on his face. “They took him, the orcs. I couldn’t...I couldn’t reach him in time.” Guilt bubbled in his chest. If he had fought a little harder or gotten up faster then the king might have been standing with them. A short silence fell over the pair until Tauriel and Kili reached them. His brother limped to his side and was saying something but Fili was still focused on the blond elf in front of him. Tauriel said something as well before she too caught sight of the bloodied items.

“Do we...do we send word of his disappearance?” The clear avoidance of the word death didn’t go unnoticed. “Or do we gather those of us left for a search party?”

“I don’t think you’ll find him,” Fili said. The elves turned to him with differing expressions. Tauriel had a dark spark in her usually bright eyes and Legolas was still fighting the sorrow and grief. “The orcs disappeared with him long before I finished killing those left behind. And if neither of you saw the pack of them then we don’t know which direction they went.”

“Gundabad or Dol Guldur.” Legolas spit the names with such disgust that Fili nearly took a step back. A desperate fire was starting to spark in his eyes. “That’s where those filth would take him, back to their strongholds.”

“If they didn’t just kill him,” Kili said. Everyone rounded on him with dark looks. “I don’t mean to offend but think about it. They’re orcs, why would they keep an elf alive?”

“Because he is the King of the Woodland Realm. The only elf that has kept their forces from taking over the entire Greenwood for their own.” Tauriel had a soft snarl on her face. The mere thought of the elven king being murdered or taken captive bringing forth a raging fire from within. Fili looked from her to Legolas to find much the same in his face. “That filth wouldn’t kill him when leverage is a much bigger prize.”

“We must gather our own.” Legolas tucked the circlet into his tunic and held the weapons of the elven king close to his chest. Then he turned away to walk around the rest of the broken stone walls to the frozen river. “Word must be sent to Lothlorien and Imladris that my father has been taken captive. Our kingdom is going to be unprotected for some time after this battle, and the help of our kin would aid us greatly.” Fili jogged after the elf with Tauriel helping Kili along behind them. The knowledge of Legolas being King Thranduil’s son barely registered with him. It was almost laughable of him to not see the resemblances between the two. 

“As acting regent, my lord, would it be wise to tell others of our weakness?” Tauriel asked, a bone tired weariness in her voice. It was clear she didn’t believe her own question but Fili knew it was one that had to be asked. Losing their king would spring chaos upon the elves of Mirkwood that they no doubt would never be prepared for. Not to mention they still had to total the loss of their dead. Fili could only sympathize with the elves and Legolas for the troubles settling on their shoulders.

“Fili, Kili.” Thorin’s relieved call of their names had the group coming up short on the ice. Fili had completely forgotten about his uncle and Bilbo; and now Dwalin that joined them. “Are you both alright?” The reminder of the wound on his back made Fili falter in his step, but only for a moment. It was hardly a scratch compared to the wounds that King Thranduil no doubt sported; and would hinder less than the loss of the king for the elves. Already there was a shift in the air that Fili was sure he wasn’t imagining. 

“A small scratch, nothing that won’t heal on its own time.” Fili waved away the worry like he was known to do and turned to see if Kili was going to acknowledge his own injuries. His brother opened his mouth to no doubt say the same but the knowing look on Thorin’s face only made Kili shrug. Whatever healing they needed done could wait. There was an elven king to find and an entire people to console. “Nothing disastrous to yourselves?” He had noticed the body of the pale orc at the edge of the waterfall but he didn’t spare it a glance. Thorin had obviously dealt with the threat.

“Bruised and tired, but fine by any standards,” Thorin said. Bilbo and Dwalin echoed much the same responses. So it seemed that out of everyone on Ravenhill the elven king had the least amount of luck in this battle; but still enough to remain alive, hopefully.

“Do you need help getting down the hill?” Tauriel’s question was aimed at Kili but she looked to each of the gathered. Fili shook his head and looked up to Legolas to find a blank look in his eyes. He still held his father’s weapon’s close to his chest with a tightness that showcased how pale his knuckles were. It was going to be a long while before the prince was well enough to face the world. But such time could not be spared. 

“Prince Legolas.” Fili’s voice seemed to startle the elf into looking down at him. It brought the attention of the others to him as well. “To make up for the grievances I have caused you and your kin I offer all that I can to aid you.” The diplomatic feel of the words left his throat dry and a sting in his eyes. Ever since he was little he had been through Balin’s lessons and learned how to be a King despite the fact that not once did he wish for the title. No part of him had ever wished to be of royal blood. And acting as the prince he was made him upset beyond an explainable measure.

“Thank you.” The simple acceptance of his help had him relaxing. “Whatever help we may need can wait until a later point. For now I need to inform my people of what has transpired.” Legolas gave him a nod before moving over the ice to finally reach the other bank. Tauriel offered a swift goodbye as she moved to follow after her prince. Thorin, Bilbo, and Dwalin turned to Fili with varying expressions of confusion and anger.

“What hairbrained idea was that? Offering to help an elf?” Dwalin asked, a not so subtle anger underlying his voice. 

“You have done nothing you need to make up for, Fili. It was foolish of you to offer such,” Thorin said. Fili shook his head and could feel a rising fury of his own. All of them had no doubt known that King Thranduil was in the tower with him yet none of them seemed to notice his missing presence. The elven king had saved his life and they didn’t even have the thought to remember him.

“I feel like I don’t even know who you are.” Fili stepped back from his uncle with another shake of his head. The uncle he knew would never have forgotten someone who had come to his aid. “King Thranduil is missing and you haven’t even acknowledged that.” Realization dawned on their faces but Fili had already made up his mind on something. Should the opportunity present itself he would step out from his uncle’s shadow and do what he could to help bring the elven king back. He wanted nothing to do with this negligence. This disregard of allies. 

“Missing? Missing how?” Bilbo asked, being the first come out of the dawning of recognition.

“Gone. Taken from Ravenhill in front of my eyes because I was unable to reach him fast enough.” Fili would never get the image of the feral king out of his head. The blood dripping down his face and the wild look in those icy blue eyes. The pain and fear building in his stance. The sound of the blade sinking into his shoulder and the echoing crack of the club striking him down. The limp figure of him being dragged away into the surrounding darkness. “Should you need me for whatever reason, I will be with the elves.”

Fili moved around his kin to get to the other side of the frozen river. He left behind his brother and ignored the calls of his name as he moved down Ravenhill. There was a debt he needed settled. King Thranduil had saved his life and in return he would do whatever it took to do the same. Being at the mercy of orcs was a fate worse than death. Even if he was an elven king and of strong will, Fili could not help but feel that this might be the thing to tear down the mighty King Thranduil.

Once down from Ravenhill it wasn’t hard to find the gathered elves. Tents had been set up through the ruins of Dale no doubt for the wounded and elves moved between them carrying various items; mainly bloodied cloth. Fili wandered through the controlled chaos for the regal tent at the very edge of the broken city. Voices whispered around him in a language he didn’t know but he ignored them. He knew Dain and the other dwarrow would gather in the mountain, but he had no desire to be among them. When he reached the tent the entrance flap was closed. Inside he could pick out certain familiar voices that had him pushing through the heavy fabric. Legolas sat on the very edge of an elegant chair with Tauriel at his side, a couple elves stood at the end of a table where King Thranduil’s lost items lay, and Gandalf was right in between the two small groups. Each and everyone of them turned to look at him when he entered. The two elves he didn’t recognize bristled and reached for most likely weapons before Legolas waved his hand. They stopped their movements but didn’t relax.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to join us,” Legolas said. His voice was tired but held a welcoming note that Fili didn’t expect. The acting king turned to the other elves and held a hand out to Fili. “This is the dwarf that witnessed the taking of the king.”

“Yes, and did nothing to prevent it apparently,” one of them sneered. Fili moved to stand by Gandalf’s side, who had yet to say anything, and met the elf head on.

“I did my best to reach King Thranduil’s side but orcs got in between us. When the orcs had finally been slayed the king was gone.” Fili kept his voice level and steady despite the tremble of his hands by his sides. The elves looked ready to argue but Gandalf stepped in.

“Perhaps it would best if you explained from the beginning.” And so Fili did. He explained how the elven king saved him from Azog and was backed into a tight hallway. Explained how he tried to get to the king but could never get close enough. Left out the details of watching the king being beaten down but told them of the orcs knocking him unconscious. There wasn’t much left to tell but he told it anyway. How he killed the rest of the orcs and found that King Thranduil was gone with nothing but his weapons and circlet left behind. He didn’t tell them about the puddle of glittering blood left behind though he explained that the king had been stabbed. Those within the tent held grim faces when he finished. 

“Word needs sent to Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond along with a message sent back to the royal advisors in Mirkwood. The king is currently missing and preparations need to be made.” Legolas waved the two elves out of the tent and the second the tent flap closed every ounce of strength seemed to leave the prince. He sagged in the chair and closed his eyes. A tremble settled over his hands that he brought up to run over his face. Fili turned away to give the elf some semblance of peace to collect himself.

“Would you like for me to organize a search party?” Tauriel asked, voice loud in the quiet tent. 

“Not yet. We still need to collect our dead and hold a funeral. Our people need to rest as well.” The weariness in Legolas’ voice weighed heavy in the space. It was clear that he was doing his best to remain strong for his people. “We know where the orcs are most likely to take him.”

“It will not be Dol Guldur.” Gandalf stepped up with a frown. “The White Council cleared that foul place.”

“Then Gundabad,” Legolas said. 

“My lord, you cannot rely on that knowledge alone. Many things have been afoot in this world and if King Thranduil truly is in the grasp of orcs, then it is a likely possibility that they avoid such known places. Having a captive such as the king as leverage would mean there are plans for him. Far beyond those of simple orcs.” The foreboding in Gandalf’s words had everyone on edge. Orcs didn’t take captives, they killed them. They had all missed that simple fact in their worry for the elven king. Fili felt like a fool. He knew orcs would rather kill a king than take one captive. They cared not for leverage purposes, only death. Which meant that those that had taken King Thranduil were working for someone much stronger and smarter with plans beyond what they had thought.

“Let me follow the trail. I’ll see which direction they were headed and report back,” Fili offered. He would not sit idly by when things were becoming this dire.

“No, you will see the healers.” Legolas waved off the offer with a pointed look at Fili. “Their trail should remain unchanged for the next day or two. With winter upon us no creature should be up on Ravenhill disturbing anything.” Fili opened his mouth to protest but only got a tired look in return. “I have no doubt you and Tauriel will follow the trail but leave it until you are both healed.” The acting king gave Tauriel a similar look. Who held the gaze with her head high but soon dropped it to follow the orders given. 

“Fine.” Fili didn’t want to let the trail go cold but Legolas had a solid point. It would not change in the time it took to get looked at by the healers. With a small nod to the blond elf, Fili turned to leave the tent. He could hear Gandalf mutter something to himself that he didn’t bother trying to figure out. It was no doubt something about dwarves and elves finally working together. Which certainly wasn’t to be. Fili knew his kin would rather die than work with elves in a friendly manner. He had grown up being told that elves were his enemy but from what he had learned on this journey they had done nothing to warrant the dislike. Even King Thranduil’s refusal to help with Smaug wasn’t out of malice; Fili knew he simply wished to protect his own people. Fili no longer wanted to be among those that distrusted elves because he was told to. He would decide for himself who he could and couldn’t trust on his own time, even if that meant leaving behind his own kin.


	2. Chapter 2

A jolting pain awakened Thranduil. His shoulder was throbbing and most of his body ached. The pain left him disoriented for a moment before he came to his senses. Something bound his wrists together and he could feel that he was on a mount of some sort. Opening his eyes he was met with the disgusting fur of a warg. The smell alone should have alerted him. He was lying across the back of the creature but not bound to it. Which made it easy for him to roll to the side and topple off the foul creature’s back. Hitting the ground with a roll had him grunting in pain as his shoulder was jostled but he was quick to get to his feet. A shout was heard and Thranduil looked up from the ground to find a rather large group of orcs surrounding him with weapons aimed at him. Black speech was tossed around then the orcs were laughing. Thranduil met it with a glare and was more than prepared for a fight despite being without a weapon or armor. It was clear the orcs had stripped him of any protection other than his under tunic and trousers; even his boots were gone.

His fight was not meant to happen though. With his hands bound and the slow healing of his shoulder he knew he wouldn’t get far in killing the orc pack. Not when they had weapons and wargs on their side. The hulking beasts snarled at him and circled around like he was prey. They snapped their jaws at him but he ignored them. One of the orcs said something before leaping down from his mount to stand in front of him. Thranduil studied the foul creatures for but a moment. Large as the orc was, there was no stopping Thranduil. Even with bound hands his reach was long and strike sharp. He hit the orc in the face then dropped his hands to grab the knife on the creature’s belt. In a swift move he had cut the ropes and slashed out to pull the jagged knife blade through the muscle and tendons in the orc’s neck. Black blood spurted out to cover Thranduil’s already bloody face. He ignored the pain in his shoulder as he struck out at the wargs closest to him. They yelped in pain but didn’t back down. Taking his chances he reached out for the one closest and while avoiding the sharp teeth climbed up its back. He had a way with animals, even those that were bred for such evil purposes. It was no surprise to him that when he whispered soothing words to the creature it stopped trying to snap at him. With one hand he clutched the greasy fur around its neck and the other held out the knife.

“It is time to leave these foul creatures behind.” The words were aimed at the warg beneath him and worked well to get it moving. Thranduil nudged the creature in the direction he could see the lonely mountain and ignored the outraged shrieks of the orcs behind him. The warg took off towards the mountain over the rocky terrain. Their leave was followed by furious shouts and the whip of arrows being shot at them. Several of the arrows hit their marks and with a wounded cry the warg went down. Thranduil fell into a roll to pop back up on his feet. The wounded creature struggled on the ground for a moment before falling still and quiet. There wasn’t time to offer a prayer to the Valar for its safe passage. With only an offer of a dipped head, Thranduil was taking off through the rocks. He ducked and hid the best he could, but he knew the wargs already had his scent. Running from a fight had never been his choice of action anyway.

When the orcs finally reached him and he leaped up to meet them head on. Even with such a small knife he was able to take out a significant number before a warg caught the back of his tunic. He was jerked to the side and even as he slashed at the creature’s muzzle he wasn’t let go. An orc dropped down to fight the knife from him while a different one brought a club down on his shoulders. It took more than one hit to make him lose his grip on his only weapon. But when the knife had finally been pulled from his hands he could feel the throbbing of his body. His shoulder was in agony that dripped blood and his arms were weak from the beating they had taken, his hands bloody from the split skin on his knuckles. Thranduil struck out at the warg still holding him to at least try and escape but the creature only shook him like he was merely a toy to be played with. It had his tunic ripping and sent him falling back to the rocks. To which he snarled and lashed out at the orcs still near him, reaching for any weapon he could find. One of the orcs came up behind him and grabbed a fistful of white hair to yank his head back. It caused enough of a distraction to have another foul creature binding his wrists together once more even as he struggled. The orcs laughed and black speech was thrown around while Thranduil was tugged to his feet. Then he was forced onto the back of another warg; careless of the fight he was putting up.

The orcs tied a rope around the warg’s neck that they attached to the binds on Thranduil’s wrists. He kicked the creatures and headbutted those that got too close. Pain was trying to blind him but he shoved the burn of his wounds to the back of his mind. If he stopped fighting then these filthy beasts would win. And he knew that he was being taken prisoner by them for whatever reason. If he stopped then he would be at their mercy and whim. He couldn’t focus on his already battered body or cold fae, not when his life depended on him fighting. And fight he did until the heavy hit of a club to the back of his head knocked him unconscious; again.

When he next awoke it was by the tugging sensation of his fae. An ice settled deep in his being that made it hard to open his eyes. He was far from his home. The calling of Mirkwood was more than enough to let him know that he was the farthest had been from the trees in a long time. His connection with the land under his protection was being strained. The tremble within his fae let him know that the forest was mourning his loss. It seeped into his very being with icy claws. In all his time as king the farthest he had been from the forest was to Imladris and within the healing valley he knew that his kingdom was safe. Wherever he was, it was not safe for himself or Mirkwood. The forest was connected to him and he to it. What happened to one was sure to affect the other. Thranduil was at the mercy of foul creatures and very nearly powerless if he wanted to keep his home safe. He would not let harm come to his kingdom. And by the freezing in his bones he knew that Mirkwood understood the sentiment. The silver of his fae curled through him like frost on stone. It gave him strength but also the wisdom needed to see past his desire to escape above injury. If he was hurt then the forest would feel the backlash, and he wished to avoid that as best he could.

Finally working up the urge to come back to himself, Thranduil opened his eyes. It wasn’t hard to determine that he was no longer being carted away on a warg or anywhere near the lonely mountain. He was bound by chains to a wall deep within a fortress hidden away from the light. Darkness shadowed the corners of the cell he found himself in. The cold of winter seeped through the stone to chill the irons around his wrists and ankles. Not being one to be easily bothered by weather changes, Thranduil could hardly feel the chill of winter beyond the uncomfortable freeze of metal touching his skin. He pushed on the manacles to shift their position and offer a reprieve from the cold. Whatever cold was coming from around him bothered him little in comparison to his own frozen fae. With a small effort he got to his feet and searched every inch of the cell as far as the chains would allow him to move. It was more of a long dark hall. When the chains reached their length he still had not found a door in the open expanse of darkness. Stone walls closed in on three sides yet there was nothing in front of him. 

After doing what investigating he could he sat back down on the hard earth. There was nothing in the space with him other than the chains holding him prisoner to the wall behind him. He studied the manacles and the plates bolted into the stone to try and find any weakness to exploit. But in the darkness even with his superior sight he could hardly see his own hands in front of his face. With that avenue exhausted Thranduil turned his attention to other matters. Mainly being that of why he was taken prisoner and where he was being held. He knew orcs were too stupid to bother with the useful properties of taking prisoners and rather enjoyed killing any and everything in their path. Which meant that they were either working for someone else or captured him for pleasure and entertainment. Neither options spelt good news. If they were working for someone then whoever it was would know who he was and what leverage they could get out holding him captive. The other option was just disgusting and degrading to think about. No, it was far more likely he was captured to bring the downfall of his kingdom or at least weaken their defences to an attack. The only comforting thought Thranduil had was that at least Legolas would take care of their people and lands before searching out for him. He would rather their kingdom be protected than his own safety.

A loud clicking sound drew Thranduil from his thoughts. He got to his feet and forced a nonchalant ease into his movements as he faced the open hall. Orange light flickered from way down the hall that let him know that he was farther from a door than he originally thought; and in a deadend hall. A group of three orcs cackled as they came down the hall towards him but he cared not for them. His attention was on the greasy slim man following behind them. The man wasn’t chained or being dragged so that let him know that he wasn’t a prisoner. Which most likely meant that his assumption of the orcs working for someone else was correct. Though why they would stoop so low as to follow the orders of a human was beyond him; not that he tried to understand the thinking of orcs.

“I should hope there is a reason for this abysmal meeting.” Thranduil’s voice cut through the orcs’ laughter and silenced them. The commanding and cold tone he always used worked to control a room no matter who was within. 

“One that we’ll get to soon enough.” The weasel of a man waved a hand at the orcs and Thranduil struck out at the creatures as they reached for them. He had the throat of one of the creatures in his hand and kicked another to the floor before chains were wrapped around his throat. Their weight combined with the force of the orc tugging on them had him choking on the little breath he could take in. He let go of the orc in his hand and swung back at the creature suffocating him. It only left room for the other two to bring him down to his knees in a kneeling position in front of the greasy man. The orc holding the chains loosened his grip but didn’t disappear from Thranduil’s back, and neither did the orcs pushing his shoulders down to keep him on the ground. “Finally, a position benefiting your current status.” The words had Thranduil biting down a snarl and schooling his features into an impassiveness he was known for.

“Your business, mortal?” His outward show of nothing being wrong caused a tick in the man’s face. 

“The fall of Mirkwood,” the man said. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at him with the same cool expression he always wore. “You have stood in the way of our plans for far longer than we appreciate. With the loss of the mountain your lands will be the next to fall. We have already taken care of the dwarves and men standing in our way.”

“If you wish to pull a veil over my eyes you will have to try harder than that. Erebor still stands with those insolent dwarves and Azog is defeated.” He may not have been there to see the end of the battle but he knew in his heart that they prevailed. If they had lost the orcs wouldn’t have taken him away from the lonely mountain. There would have been no reason to drag him from Ravenhill if the orcs had bested all three armies fighting them. “I am not some youngling you can blind with lies.”

“Your lands will still fall, filth. There is nothing standing between us and the forest. And once we have control of the entire Mirkwood all nearby lands will fall as well.” The man stepped forward and bent down so their faces were close together. Thranduil grimaced at the smell of his breath. “We just need to send proof of your demise to those prissy elflings.” Hands moved around his head to pull his hair up. A cold glare settled on his face as he felt the man run his fingers through the messy white strands. The near intimate feel of the gesture had Thranduil swallowing the bile gathering his throat. His hair was not for anyone to touch but himself and his son. “I won’t take all of it, just enough to show who you belong to now. And send word to your kingdom that you’re not coming back.” The man forced Thranduil’s head down even as he struggled against the grip of the orcs. He was not going to let anyone cut his hair. 

“Unhand me you welp.” Thranduil jerked his head back up in time to headbutt the man. A curse left the man but his hands didn’t leave the white blond strands of hair. Their hold tightened to an almost painful sensation as his head was forced back down again. The shink of a knife being pulled from its sheath had a cold fire burning in him. He struggled in the hold again as he felt the man gather up all of his hair into a single hand and brought the knife closer. Then the unmistakable feel and sound of hair being sheared had horror building in his chest. The chain around his neck was pulled tighter when he tried to jerk out of the hold for the third time and the orcs pressed down hard on his arms. Thranduil closed his eyes against the feel of short hair brushing the back of his neck. His hair had never been so short in all of his long life, not even when he was a young elfling.

“There. See that wasn’t so hard.” The man stepped back and let Thranduil lift his head. He opened his eyes to see long white blond strands of hair being held in front of his face. The mass of his hair was waved to show off the brilliance of it in the light of the torches. “Now all that’s left to do is send this back to Mirkwood.” The knife was put away and the man used his free hand to touch the short strands still on Thranduil’s head. Dirty fingers brushed the hair off of his face with a delicateness that made him sick. “No one will come for you after this. Which makes you ours now, spring.” Hearing the partial translation of his name in Common had a snarl breaking out on his face.

“Keep my name out of your wretched mouth.” He spit at the man with as much venom as he could muster. The loss of his hair was a low blow but one he would no doubt recover from. It did not mean he was any less furious about it though. His fae trembled with unbridled rage and he knew part of his anger was going to translate through Mirkwood. He only hoped that his elves knew better than to step out of the palace.

“Let’s hope you don’t lose that spirit, it would make for a very dull toy.” Fingers caressed through Thranduil’s hair once more before the man turned away. The orcs holding him down snickered as they moved to follow after him. Thranduil glared at them as they left, taking all the light away with them until it disappeared behind the click of a door shutting. Then he dropped his head and lifted his hands to run through the short strands of his hair. All of the blood and other undesirable fluids that had dried in it had been cut away to leave only smooth white blond strands behind. They reached just below his ears at the back with longer sections hanging just below his chin at the front. Tears burned his eyes that he forced away. It would grow back in a few years time there was no use crying over it now. He sighed and moved out of the kneeled position he still held to rest against the cold stone behind him. The chain was lifted from his neck and tossed to the floor. He let his head fall back and took time to allow his body to rest. Whatever was to come next he would need to be at his full strength, both body and mind.

The second Fili was cleared by the elven healers, he was leaving their tents for Ravenhill. Tauriel met him before he had even escaped the ruins of Dale. There was a mutual silence as they both made their way up to the broken towers and frozen river. Fili led the way back to the small hallway where the king had fallen and barely held back the bile in his throat at the sight of the dried pool of blood. It still glittered despite being dry. There was noise from Tauriel that he didn’t acknowledge. He crouched down next to the dried spot to get a look at where exactly the king had been dragged to. The trail led straight into the darkness of the hall in front of them. They both kept low as they followed the red smear until they reached a back staircase down from Ravenhill and the blood turned into drops. The stones were disturbed and misplaced where the orcs had crawled down the hill. It wasn’t a hard trail to follow.

For several hours they scoured the trail and barren land to see where the orcs were headed. It was clear they were going North towards Withered Heath but before the trail even got close to those hills it veered to the West. Then the blood ended and large wolf prints let them know that the orcs had ridden away on wargs from that point on. Which meant that they were most likely heading for Gundabad. It was good news to them. King Thranduil wasn’t being taken to an orc stronghold they didn’t know of. It was a mutual decision to turn back for the mountain and inform Legolas of what they had discovered. The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached the royal tent. Where they found Legolas wide awake and writing something on a piece of parchment. Tauriel took the lead in telling of what they had found and Fili was inclined to let her. The news brought a grim look to the prince’s face but the tension in his shoulders had lessened considerably.

“Would you like to send out a search party to follow the trail?” Tauriel asked after finally delivering the last of their findings. Fili moved to sit in a chair across from the blond elf and Tauriel took one next to him.

“No, not yet.” Legolas ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I would like to get our wounded and dead back home first. They are my first priority. Once back in Mirkwood we have to check our borders and make sure nothing falls to ruin before I can even consider sending out elves to search for him.”

“If you’ll have me, I’d like to go with you,” Fili said. Both elves looked at him with equal confused and questioning expressions.

“You would rather be with elves than among your own kin? After all it took to get the mountain back?” Legolas asked, turning to fully face him. Fili paused a moment to look at the entrance of the tent before turning back to the elf prince.

“Yes. Our views have begun to differ and I have no desire to remain in Erebor.” There was still a darkness that clung to it. Even in Dale he could feel the clawing sickness of the mountain reaching out for him. “I’d rather help in getting the king back than stay here.” He had a feeling he knew where the sickness was coming from, and wanted as far away from it as possible. The Arkenstone made his stomach turn with a mere thought. Something was most definitely wrong with that gem and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“Fine, you can accompany us back. I wish to leave in the next few days, we’ve been gone from the wood far too long already,” Legolas said. “Best to let your company know if you are to come with us. I’d rather not have dwarves accusing us of stealing you.”

“I’ll do it the day we leave.” Fili enjoyed the company, he really did, but he had no want to be around his own kin. 

And three days later Fili was making his way to the entrance gates of Erebor alone. None of the dwarves had accepted the offered help of the elves and so he knew he was going to be walking into a mess. He was probably viewed as a traitor. Having been with the elves and men instead of with his own after such a battle, but he cared not. He offered a few nods to Dain’s guards as he passed through the gate. It wasn’t hard to find the tent housing his uncle, nor was it a surprise to find the rest of the company within. Someone had sent word of his approach. For a moment it was quiet as he stepped through the entrance then everyone started speaking and asking questions. Fili let them carry on until Thorin silenced them. He was offered a seat next to his brother that he declined.

“I’m not going to be long.” He could feel himself slipping into that unwanted diplomacy and had to stop to correct himself. These dwarrow, and hobbit, were his friends and family; not advisors or enemies. “The elves are leaving for Mirkwood in a few hours, and I’m going with them.” A clamor started up again that he silenced with a raised hand. The act had him swallowing harshly when they listened. He didn’t want this royal position. 

“Why? Have you not offered your help to them? Why continue on?” The distance in Thorin’s voice had Fili sighing. He knew in his heart that this was coming. His uncle was going to forsake him and strip him of his nobility. Which if he was honest with himself, he would accept wholeheartedly. 

“I have and there are circumstances that are keeping us from acting upon why I offered my help.” Legolas had made it clear that if possible he should avoid telling the dwarrow that they were not looking for the king. It was to be kept among elven kind, and very few others. They were weakened by this battle and while the dwarrow were not enemies they were not allies. “I continue with them because I feel my offered help isn’t done with, and will do so until Prince Legolas says he has no more need of it.” A suffocating silence fell over the tent. Each of the company was looking at each other but nobody said a word. Until Kili.

“Promise you’ll come back,” Kili demanded. Fili looked to his brother and found a stubborn glare aimed at him. “That you will not kill yourself in finding him. You will come back to us, your family.”

“Kili…” With a sigh Fili bowed his head. He could not promise that. 

“I don’t care if you stay with the elves, brother. I just want to know that you will survive this search and come see us.” The clarification had some of the tension bleeding from Fili’s shoulders.

“Aye, I can do my best.” He lifted his head to give Kili a small smile. There were no plans to leave the elves unless he was asked to by Legolas. And as much as he wished to do everything in his power to find King Thranduil, he knew his own limits. “I will visit when he is either found alive or we get word he is dead.”

“What makes ya think we’ll want ya back from those faithless woodland sprites?” Dain’s grating voice came from behind Fili at the tent entrance. Fili turned around to face the lord. The disdain on the dwarf’s face had him shifting to an impassive stance.

“I would expect it’s not your decision. Seeing as you are not King under the Mountain,” Fili said. Rage filled Dain’s face and turned red while Fili turned back to the company, and his uncle. “I best get going. We’ve still got wounded to get into carts and ready for travel. I’ll send word if I am able when we reach Mirkwood.” With a bow, he turned away and moved around Dain to exit the tent.

The murmurs of the company reached his ears that he ignored. He had been right when he said there were still things to be done. None of the dwarrow he passed looked at him. No doubt word had spread that Fili was staying with the elves and men, and not his own kin. It didn’t bother him any. He was confident in his decision and held his head high as he left Erebor for possibly the last time. It was not his home and he doubted it ever could be. Even with all the stories told and his family being there, it was not home. He wasn’t quite sure what home was at the moment but he had more important things to worry about. Mainly finding a wayward king.

The journey from Dale to Mirkwood was nearly a week’s journey according to Legolas. Which wasn’t a long time but Fili was restless the second day in. He walked alongside Tauriel at the front of the group with Legolas only a few feet behind them talking to some other elf. It was a boring walk with a stifling silence. One that he was about to break but something beat him to it. A strong breeze rushed over them that was cold enough to have even the elves shivering. It didn’t come down from the North like expected on such slopes but instead from the West; from the direction they were heading. Through the wind came several leaves that slashed at them with their brittle ends. Legolas reached up and grabbed a handful of them. The group had come to a stop and Fili turned to face the prince. A sorrowful look crossed his face before being replaced with something darker.

“Father.” The elf held the yellow and brown leaves up to his face and studied them. “These are from Mirkwood.” Fili didn’t know much about the weather or trees but he was pretty sure that leaves didn’t travel miles and up slopes, even with such a strong wind. Legolas picked through the leaves in his hand until only an oak leaf was left. “The last of the leaves left on the tree branches until spring.” What Fili did know about seasons and weather was that they weren’t nearly far enough into winter for all the leaves to be gone from the trees. Especially not those of Mirkwood; that forest had a certain magic over it. “He is angry. Furious enough to have the wood acting on it. He’s lost something.” The oak leaf was turned over in Legolas’ hand and he ran his fingers over it. Fili didn’t know what was happening but by the words he knew it was something serious. “We can’t enter Mirkwood. Not yet.”

“Why?” Fili asked, taking a step towards the elf. Blue eyes looked up from the leaf to stare at him then move to something beyond his shoulder.

“It is dangerous. With father’s anger the trees will kill anyone who sets foot beneath their branches.” Legolas let the leaf fall to the ground while smoothing out the dark look on his face. “We will camp at the edge of the forest until it is safe. No one is to enter until I say so.” The order was given to the elves and no one argued. There was no reason to discredit the acting king. Fili turned around to eye the forest in the distance. How could Mirkwood act on King Thranduil’s anger?


End file.
